


Casual

by anticyclone



Category: Hidden Legacy Series - Ilona Andrews
Genre: Admitting you're friends is harder, Awkward Conversations, Breakfast, Friends With Benefits, Having friends is one thing, M/M, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 17:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20970002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticyclone/pseuds/anticyclone
Summary: "Go back to sleep," Cornelius murmured. His thumb moved in an arc over Augustine's bare skin. "It's three in the morning.""I think I should go," Augustine said, slowly.Cornelius's hand stilled. The next thing he said sounded significantly more awake than the last. "Is it because Zeus woke you up?"This thing with Cornelius is… just a thing. It has to be. Anything else is messy, which Augustine does not do. He tells himself this repeatedly, because otherwise having Rogan check up on him and going to Cornelius's house in the middle of the night would mean something more than a casual acquaintanceship.





	Casual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sadlikeknives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadlikeknives/gifts).

Warm, damp air hit Augustine's face. Before he could remember where he was or why that might be happening, he sat bolt upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Unfortunately, he'd gone to bed with a man who apparently had to continually rotate or he wouldn't sleep at all. Cornelius took tossing and turning to a new level. This meant that when Augustine's feet hit the floor, his legs were tangled in the bedsheets. Trying to stand landed him squarely back on the bed.

Zeus, sitting just by the bed, flicked his tail. The giant blue interdimensional being tilted his head so far to the side that it might have been a ninety-degree angle.

Necks weren't supposed to work like that, Augustine was sure.

Behind Zeus, the bedroom door was cracked open. Had the cat actually pushed it partway shut behind himself? Had he headbutted the door open, or did he know how to open it? The look on his face was so piercing that Augustine couldn't push down a rising, silly anxiety that an alien cat from another plane of existence not only knew how to open doors but had done so specifically to examine Augustine, sleeping, unawares, vulnerable-

Cornelius touched his hip, and Augustine's line of thought collapsed. He drew in a slow breath.

"Go back to sleep," Cornelius murmured. His thumb moved in an arc over Augustine's bare skin. "It's three in the morning."

"I think I should go," Augustine said, slowly.

Cornelius's hand stilled. The next thing he said sounded significantly more awake than the last. "Is it because Zeus woke you up?"

"No," said Augustine, who was trying not to blink before Zeus did.

"Zeus," Cornelius said.

The cat straightened his neck back out and made a throaty chirping noise. His tail swished once against the bedroom carpet. He did not blink, but he did look away from Augustine.

"We talked about this," Cornelius said. "If the bedroom door is shut, you can't come in unless you have a real reason to believe I'm in danger, or something has happened to Matilda."

Zeus seemed to consider this for a moment before adopting what Augustine could only inadequately describe as puppy dog eyes and making another chirping sound, lower and more forlorn than the last.

Whatever that had meant, it made Cornelius say: "No."

With another tail swish, Zeus turned and padded out of the room. He did not shut the door behind him. Which either meant that he wasn't that smart after all, or he was that smart and wanted to make sure Augustine had no proof of it.

Cornelius waited for ten seconds - Augustine counted - and then said, his thumb making another arc on Augustine's skin, "Lie back down. Please."

Augustine reached over and took his glasses off the bedside table.

There was a sigh behind him and Cornelius twisted again, pressing his face down against the bed. It made the sheets go even tighter around Augustine's waist, so he didn't try to stand again. Not yet. "You don't even need those," Cornelius said. Or at least Augustine assumed he said, since the words were muffled by mattress.

"I don't think," he said, carefully, "you want to explain to Matilda why I'm still here come breakfast."

"You make her feel safe," Cornelius countered. He must have lifted his face from the sheets.

Augustine adjusted his glasses. "I have experience with children," he said. Which is also what he'd said to convince Cornelius that he'd been the best choice to pick Matilda up, during the latest crisis when Diana hadn't been able to do it. Matilda reminded him of his sister at this age. "That's all," he added.

This thing with Cornelius was… just a thing. It had to be. Anything else was messy, which Augustine did not do.

He thought this to himself, while smoothing down his hair. That did not work - Cornelius had been pulling on it, earlier. It had been great at the time and now meant that Augustine would need to use magic to make his hair look fine. A truly ridiculous use of illusion at three o'clock in the morning.

"I don't mind you staying."

"It would be inappropriate."

These past few weeks had been a flight of fantasy he couldn't afford to indulge in, even with someone who held no danger of - of something emotional that Augustine would have trouble extricating himself from. On paper, Cornelius Harrison was perfect. Smart, funny, literally incapable of caring or of making things messy.

"Yeah," Cornelius said, half-laughing. "And you never do anything inappropriate."

Augustine clenched his jaw.

He shouldn't be here. He'd meant to just drop some paperwork off with Cornelius and leave, not fall into bed. Not hold still when Cornelius touched his hair and invited him to stay for a drink. Not hold still, later, when Cornelius started pulling his hair. Not fall asleep. Absolutely not to fall asleep.

He'd meant to close his eyes and count to ten before levering himself up from the bed. Not sleep, not here, with other people and creatures of varying intelligence levels in the house, not with someone next to him in the bed...

He started pulling at the sheets, shifting his weight, trying to loosen himself from the tangled mess Cornelius had trapped him in. That he'd fallen into. That he'd made.

Cornelius murmured, "I'm not going to look."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not going to look, Augustine. While you're sleeping."

Augustine didn't say anything for thirty seconds.

He actually did have some control over himself while he was asleep. The passive field of his magic maintained a 'default' illusion, as long as he was falling asleep on purpose and had not been violently knocked unconscious. Which he generally avoided doing. But explaining that to Cornelius would mean explaining some of his power, and also why he didn't want to drop the illusion in his sleep.

Besides, the fact that Cornelius had made the offer at all was the point, whether or not it would actually matter.

"Lay back down," Cornelius said. Again. "Please."

"The door is open."

Cornelius didn't say anything, but after a moment the raccoon appeared out of the shadows of the hall and used its tiny hands to tug the door shut.

Augustine didn't say anything for another thirty seconds. Then he took a deep breath.

"You knew what you were getting," Cornelius told him. He kissed Augustine's hip, just above the sheets. "I'm tired, Augustine. I want to go back to sleep."

"I'm not staying for breakfast."

"Mmm hmm." Cornelius let out an affronted and unjustified grumble when Augustine pulled the sheet clear off of both of them. It was the only way to make room to lay back down and cover them up again.

"Especially not if any of-" Augustine bit back several words that were probably poor vocabulary choices. "-them are at the table."

"You get to make the rules at your table," Cornelius said, serene, wrapping one arm around Augustine's middle. He pulled Augustine's back up against his chest and briefly buried his face in Augustine's hair, mussing it even further. "I make the rules at mine."

Augustine did eventually fall back asleep. It was difficult to stay awake when lying still in bed with a human furnace at his back.

In the morning Cornelius woke him up with a kiss to the back of his neck and a hand dipped under the sheets, and then Matilda and Zeus were knocking at the door and Cornelius was climbing out of bed and Augustine had to lie there, staring at the wall and contemplating his many, many mistakes.

Also he had to turn himself invisible until Cornelius nudged Matilda and her scary demon cat back down the hall to her own room. Then he had to sneak downstairs before they could beat him there.

He thought about leaving the house entirely but the dog followed him to the front of the house and whined when he put his hand on the doorknob. It would have given him away, so he turned around.

"Augustine came over before you woke up, for work," Cornelius said twenty minutes later. He was spooning batter into a waffle maker and ignoring the way Zeus would not stop staring, unblinking, at Augustine.

Augustine did not look up. He had pulled his laptop out and was at the kitchen table across from Matilda, going through his email.

"It's too early for work," Matilda said.

_Quite reasonable,_ Augustine thought, declining a meeting request for fifteen minutes from now.

"Yes," Cornelius said. He glanced up and Augustine thought he didn't like the look on the man's face and knew for certain that he didn't when Cornelius went on, "That's why I told him he had to stay for breakfast, before I could work. Because that's what friends do."

Matilda swiveled to peer at him. The expression on her face was the same as the one on Zeus's.

"Right," Augustine said.

When Cornelius presented him with the third waffle off the iron, he did it by closing Augustine's laptop. "No work at breakfast," he said, and then threatened to put the plate down on top of the computer until Augustine put it back in its case.

One of the ferrets appeared and tried to con him into handing over a bite of waffle. "I know you're an obligate carnivore," Augustine told it.

For some reason that made Cornelius laugh so hard he had to put his head down on the table.

***

"Pancakes," came a murmur at his elbow, and Augustine contemplated yet again why he'd resumed talking to Rogan.

"Am I interrupting some business of yours?" Augustine asked. "Is that why you're bothering me?"

He accepted the offer of a glass of wine from a passing waiter even though holding something put him in an awkward position. He much preferred to have his hands free while working. Still, he supposed if he needed a quick exit he could always toss the drink into Rogan's face. It would cause a scene but most people would be watching Rogan and then he could make his way out a side door…

"If you try to throw that in my face, I will throw it back in yours," Rogan said, interrupting his train of thought.

Augustine glanced sideways at him. He refused to rise to the bait. The last time he'd asked 'How the fuck do you do that?' had been college, and they were not in college anymore. "If I'm not in your way, please do me the courtesy of leaving me alone."

"Not a chance."

"Sometimes I wonder what I did in a past life to deserve knowing you."

The corner of Rogan's mouth turned up, almost too fast for Augustine to see it. Then he smoothed his expression back out so it wasn't as easy to tell that he was amused. What he said next was so confusing that for a moment, Augustine just stared blankly at him. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

It made no sense. "You know that no one else knows this is me," he said, slowly. "The dress will throw almost everyone off. I barely have to change my face."

"Yeah," Rogan said, dryly. "People are not looking at your face."

"I beg your pardon," Augustine said, leaning into the accent, a much more drawling Southern than his own. It made the corner of Rogan's mouth go up again. Which had not been his intention. "Stop ogling my client."

Tonight Augustine was Marian Berkeley, of no magical talent but a sizeable bank account that she enjoyed spending on art. And not on recommended security measures for that art, which was why her insurance company had not put its all into its investigation. But Marian was close friends with House Ahern. She also had the money to pay the fee for MII to investigate.

She did not have the money to pay Augustine _personally_ to investigate. Neither did House Ahern. But sometimes a favor owed was more valuable than cash.

Sometimes, also, Augustine was bored. Both of his siblings were at summer camp and his mother was out of the state visiting an old college friend.

Although if he could've gone back in time and told his past self that arranging the job this way would mean running into Rogan like this, he almost certainly would have sent someone else in to do it. Or at the very least, chosen a different dress. Rogan was in a plain suit and the dark green gown Augustine had conjured up was dull compared to the clothing some of the women here had on. But the neckline was, as his mother would call it, daring.

"Fine." Rogan's eyes started scanning the room. It was a very military scan, precise like a grid. Augustine resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You didn't answer my question."

"I think what I'm doing for my client is none of your business. Please go. Completing my actual work is going to be impossible with you here." Augustine took an annoyed sip of his wine. It would look strange, eventually, if he carried around a full glass all evening.

"I don't mean your work." Rogan looked at him again, for a second, before resuming his inspection of the crowd. "I mean this thing you've got going with Harrison."

Augustine's hand tightened on the wine glass before he could stop himself. Not that Rogan was watching. He had his eyes on the crowd as if he cared about this party at all. They stood at the edge of a ballroom with night-black windows at their backs. No one danced but in the corner a string quartet provided background music.

"Why," Augustine said, after considering and dismissing several alternatives, "are you even here, Rogan?"

The man Augustine was here to meet tonight, who he suspected of not only selling legitimate art to Marian but also arranging thefts of that same work later to resell on the black market, was nowhere in sight. Later the phone in Augustine's clutch, dangling from his shoulder on a thin silver chain, would ring with an excuse about having to leave early. Nothing about not wanting to even appear in House Rogan's peripheral vision.

"Work," Rogan said. "But I finished that already."

"And you wanted to annoy me before you left."

Rogan made an irritated sound. "He was at the house," he said. "To talk to Nevada."

When nothing else was forthcoming, Augustine said, calmly, "I see why you're concerned that your wife's coworker was meeting with her. Very suspicious."

"He stopped me in the hall and asked how you were doing." Rogan did half-turn to look directly at him, then. Augustine looked back into his wine and took a sip that he could barely taste. "Casually. Like an afterthought."

Wonderful word choice. "And this is enough to interrupt me because…?"

"If you've fucked up something enough to make Harrison worry about you, I should probably know about it," Rogan said, in a tone of voice that suggested Augustine might as well have physically been pulling the words out of him.

"Cornelius isn't worried about me. I'm perfectly fine. I will find a way to charge you for this lost night, though."

"Harrison is upset. He works with Nevada, and if she finds out why, she will want to do something about it."

Augustine sighed. "If he's upset it's because I forgot to reply to some message, not because I'm in mortal peril. You can get down from your horse and take off your shining armor, Connor."

"Funny," Rogan bit off. "Again: Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I don't work for you. Your comments on my personal life are unwanted and unwelcome. I can handle myself."

Rogan said, quietly, "You know he won't-"

"You're starting to sound like my mother."

That made Rogan tip his head back. Augustine timed it, and was sure Rogan used the moment to count to ten before lowering his gaze from the ceiling. "Make him stop worrying about you," he said. He glared again when Augustine opened his mouth to speak. "He's Nevada's friend. I don't need her worrying about you, too, if he mentions something."

"I'm sure that's the only reason you're bothering me."

"Don't make my life any more complicated than it is, Pancakes."

Rogan didn't look over his shoulder as he left. Augustine stood in the same spot, sipping his wine, until his glass was empty. He got absolutely no work done - the art dealer couldn't be around, Augustine didn't spot him once. A complete waste of an evening.

The wine sat sour in his stomach.

***

"You didn't need to ask Rogan about me," Augustine said, when the phone stopped ringing and Cornelius had picked up. The thing about da… The thing about seeing a man with a child was that you couldn't just show up at his doorstep, annoyed, at eleven o'clock at night. It had taken that long to discreetly get back to the office and write an update to the client.

Now he had the phone on speaker. His office was bug-proof (and Bug proof), he was sure.

Cornelius took a second to reply to that. "You were at the party he suddenly needed to go to?" he asked. He sounded amused.

"I apologize for not replying to your message sooner. I had work. Rogan thinks that-"

"You should come over."

Augustine looked at the clock on his desk. He should be getting home. He had things to do in the morning, he shouldn't have called now. He should have gone home and waited to do this later. "It's late."

"Are you already at home?"

He sighed. "No."

"Matilda is at her aunt's. You should come over." A pause. "I'd rather talk about this in person."

And Augustine would really rather not, as much as he'd told himself it was irritating to have to call in the first place instead of driving over. He shouldn't have mentioned Rogan at all. Should have just acted like he was finally returning Cornelius's last message, a question about whether Augustine would be interested if Cornelius wanted to try a new recipe that past weekend. Apologized for not replying before the weekend was over.

Cornelius waited patiently for him to answer. That made it worse.

"I wouldn't be there until nearly midnight."

"That's fine," Cornelius said. "I'll be up."

***

Since Matilda was at her aunt's, it meant that for once Augustine got to walk through the house largely unaccosted. Zeus was not there to peer unblinkingly at him. The cat and the raccoon were also gone. The dog opened one eye at his approach, but went back to sleep after Augustine nodded at him.

Cornelius did put a hand on his back as soon as he'd shut the door behind them, and gently guided him to the living room. Augustine was trying to decide what to say. He turned his face to glance at Cornelius, and Cornelius leaned over and kissed him, briefly.

Augustine stood there for a moment.

Cornelius dropped his hand from Augustine's back and sat down on the couch. "I didn't think that Rogan would say anything to you. I'm sorry about that."

"He feels a certain entitlement to comment on my … personal choices," Augustine said, slowly. 

He left some amount of space between himself and Cornelius when he took a seat.

Placing an elbow on the arm of the couch, Cornelius rested his head on his hand. Augustine realized that his hair was ruffled, and there were faint circles under his eyes. "Do you two actually like each other?"

Augustine raised an eyebrow. "We're friends."

"You just seem annoyed at each other a lot. Almost like siblings," Cornelius said. He laughed at whatever expression Augustine could briefly not prevent himself from making. "Sorry," he said, not sounding it at all. He paused, then glanced at the dark windows overlooking the backyard. Finally he said, "It just wasn't like you not to reply at all."

"If something happened to me, it would be in the news," Augustine said, immediately realizing how stupid that sounded.

Cornelius turned to look at him. "Really?"

Augustine held both hands up and then dropped them. He didn't need to look that defensive. "Yes, I'm sorry. It almost certainly wouldn't be in the news that quickly. I'll make sure that my secretary knows to-"

"I'm not arguing about whether I want to find out from the news that you died," Cornelius said. He hesitated and rolled his eyes. "Although I _would_ really prefer not to find out from the news that you died."

"Ah," said Augustine, unclear about why promising that Cornelius would not find out from the news that he'd died had produced that reaction.

"I would rather you not died at all, obviously."

"Thank you," Augustine said, almost reflexively.

Cornelius covered his eyes with one hand. And this was why Augustine did not date people.

"Augustine," Cornelius said, still with his hand over his eyes, "do you want to keep seeing me?"

And _that_ had come up far quicker than Augustine had anticipated. Which was probably also a reason that Augustine did not date people.

Since Cornelius was not looking at him and could not see his reaction, he let himself stop looking at Cornelius. It was easier to look at the living room. It seemed oddly bare, without Matilda's coloring books and crayons in a basket on the coffee table - she must have taken them to Diana's. Frowning, he looked up at the windows that looked out over the backyard. It was impossible to see anything, with the interior lights on, but it gave him something to focus on.

Apparently he focused on coming up with a response for so long that Cornelius gave up on him. "Because if you do," Cornelius said, "you should apologize for not just letting me know you were busy."

"I am sorry," Augustine murmured.

He glanced sideways. Cornelius had spread his fingers so he could look through them at Augustine. The corner of his mouth was turned down.

Augustine looked back at the window. "It was inconsiderate of me. I thought it was a cursory invitation, but I shouldn't have treated it so carelessly."

For several moments Cornelius said nothing. The windows were too high up to see their reflections in, so Augustine had no idea what was on his face, or if he'd covered his eyes back up, or looked away entirely. The silence was almost peaceful. It could have meant anything at all.

When Cornelius did speak, he said, "I didn't ask if you wanted to come because I had extra chicken, Augustine." He hesitated. "You do like me, right? At least as much as Rogan?"

"I like you considerably more than I like Rogan," Augustine said, instantly.

Cornelius snorted, which made it impossible not to look at him. He still looked tired, but he also didn't look particularly concerned about it. "Okay," he said. "So you understand that I invited you over because I wanted to spend time with you? And I don't just mean sex. I thought it'd be nice to have you over for dinner."

"Ah," Augustine said, again.

"I think by definition you're supposed to be better at feelings than I am," Cornelius told him.

Augustine wanted to rub his hand over his eyes, too, but refrained. He had his glasses on, after all. "I honestly don't know what might've given you the impression that I'm an expert in emotions."

"Me neither." Cornelius sighed and dropped his arm along the back of the couch. He leaned forward, until his face was close to Augustine's, and he said, his voice low, "Tell me we're friends, Augustine."

For some reason that made Augustine feel flushed. He absolutely knew it did not show on his face because he would never allow that kind of thing, but he did wish that he hadn't noticed the reaction at all. It was just. It was just that Cornelius was looking at him, so intently, and Augustine could count on one hand the number of people he was willing to call that.

"We're friends, Cornelius," he said, quietly.

Cornelius kissed him. He kissed him until Augustine gingerly reached up to curl his hand around the back of Cornelius's neck, and then he broke away and said, "Next time you ignore me for five days, I _will_ tell Rogan I'm worried you're dead."

Augustine opened his mouth, but couldn't make himself say anything.

Visibly holding back laughter, Cornelius slid off the couch. He held out one hand and tugged Augustine to his feet. "It's late," he said. "Come up to bed."

Augustine let himself be led up the stairs.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Casual](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21904804) by [sisi_rambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisi_rambles/pseuds/sisi_rambles)


End file.
